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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27416725">if there is anything you know for certain in this world (every day, all the time) I love you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimyLittleTrickster/pseuds/GrimyLittleTrickster'>GrimyLittleTrickster</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Future Fic, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Misunderstandings, Not Beta Read, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Slice of Life, assumed infidelity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:07:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,645</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27416725</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimyLittleTrickster/pseuds/GrimyLittleTrickster</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><i> Sweetest Witcher, each day I miss you more and more... </i> Jaskier frets over some old love letters found in Geralt's possession.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>308</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>if there is anything you know for certain in this world (every day, all the time) I love you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Who are they, Geralt?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt jolts awake, body on high alert and hands already wrapping around the hilt of his sword before a familiar scent reaches his nose. Spiced honey perfume, Redanian dried ink, Toussaint wine from the previous night - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jaskier</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He lets the sword go, melting into the bedsheets once more, and blinking away the sleep from his eyes to spot his bard sitting across from him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s morning, later than Geralt prefers, but early enough for the weather to still be dewy and cold. He briefly remembers soft, calloused fingers running through his hair and kisses, pressed upon each of his eyelids, urging him to sleep just a little bit longer before they must leave Jaskier’s quaint teaching quarters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Very rarely can Geralt find it in himself to let his guard down. It seems to happen more often than not with Jaskier.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turning his head to where Jaskier is perched delicately on a chair by his desk and instruments, Geralt hums in reply to a question he doesn’t know how to answer merely opens the blankets in invitation to come back to bed. The spiced honey scent only sharpens, Geralt’s lip curling in muted satisfaction as he rests on his elbows, before it sours into something that makes him want to bare his teeth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier tuts, disapproval and hurt written plain across his face and by the gods would Geralt kill to know who or what put it there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, no, witcher, you will not be seducing me out of this conversation," Jaskier wags a finger at him while propping an elbow onto his crossed knee in faux relaxation. “To think, while I had been wasting away teaching portentous young nobles all winter and spring, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> were yearning for some epistle-writing paramour.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What the fuck are you talking about, Jaskier?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His bard looks even more displeased, if possible, by his response and gestures to stacks of letters sitting neatly on his desk. A couple of them, free of any twine holding it together, lay strewn across its surface in a haphazard pile. They’re familiar in the way that makes Geralt’s pupils fatten despite the sunlight and cheeks warm in embarrassment. When Jaskier sees the change, the sour scent returns tenfold.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I found these sitting atop your potions as I was preparing your bags for our departure. While I loathe to admit curiosity besting me, I glanced at the contents only to be greeted with piss poor imitations of bodice rippers published on this side of the continent.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier picks up one of the letters by the corner with only his thumb and index finger and theatrically squints at the messy scrawl along the page. He reads the first passage with vitriol rarely seen outside contexts where people are rude to Geralt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sweetest Witcher, each day I miss you more and more. I tremble thinking of your scarred hands on mine and wish only for the day I may see you again. Today, I came to the thought of your teeth on my neck. It’s a great shame the bruises have faded but I trust you’ll replenish them in due time..</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt looks at Jaskier with barely hidden amusement watching the angry twitch of his eyebrow as he continues to paraphrase each verse from worn folds. Words that have been lost to time, blurred beyond literacy, are replaced with others but the sentiment is the same. He’s spent many nights memorizing every line long before they’d faded. He could recite it in his sleep if need be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hearing them be read to him has his cock plumping against his thigh. The image of Jaskier’s cheeks splotched with color, unbuttoned doublet revealing tufts of hair curling over his chemise, and the purple bite mark hidden by the high neckline burns itself into Geralt’s retinas.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s the problem?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What- </span>
  <em>
    <span>what is the problem?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Jaskier stalks the few paces towards the bed tossing the letter at his chest. To Geralt’s horror, his eyes are glassy and red rimmed and it zaps away any residual sleep and lust from his being. “Oh, I don’t know, Geralt. Perhaps it’s finding out the man I love has been keeping salacious letters from a past entanglement in his potions bag. The same man who -- need I remind you -- spent the first two years of our companionship chastising me for keeping tiny trinkets on the path with us.”.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jaskier-” Geralt starts only to be cut off by his bard’s scowl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have five stacks, each one growing more and more magniloquent and all signed by ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>your beloved</span>
  </em>
  <span>’. There’s even one with three pages dedicated to the glow of your eyes and taste of your spend on their lips! Who else am I sharing my witcher’s heart with, hmm? Tell me, who is this person that has you so beguiled.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sitting up, the sheets pool around thighs hiding little evidence of their activities from the night before. Geralt’s nose flares catching the sour notes still emanating off Jaskier. He raises a hand, fingertips brushing by the edge of his trousers, and smooths a thumb over the exposed hip bone where the chemise is not tucked in properly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re someone very important to me,” Geralt rumbles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier jerks back but doesn’t go very far, not with Geralt holding him close. His shoulders are tense, body coiled tight, and it’s a small mercy he doesn’t swat Geralt away as hands wind around his waist pulling him between his knees. Instead, Jaskier raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest looking like the very portrait of discontent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re the one who wrote those letters, Jaskier. All of them are from you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Several emotions pass Jaskier’s face before ultimately settling on indignation. “Do not toy with me, Geralt. My writing is completely different and I have no memory of ever sending you love letters,” he hisses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember the month-long poet’s summit you attended in Novigrad?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier regards him with suspicion and nods. “It was the first time we’d separated since the -- erm, the mountain but yes, I remember,” his hands twitch in the crook of his elbows. There’s a crease between his brows that wasn’t there before and Geralt squeezes his hip in what he hopes is reassuring. It was a long time ago, enough for the wounds to heal but the scar it left behind is still visible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The same summit where you fractured your right arm playing whilst sitting side saddle on a horse?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It wouldn’t’ve broken had Valdo not spooked the horses with his insufferable screeching,” Jaskier replies immediately. “Were I not in insurmountable pain, I would have strangled him to death.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A moment passes for far longer than comfortable only to end when Jaskier’s cheeks flood with color. He gapes, points at Geralt, and sputters, “you- you- that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>ten years ago</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Melitele’s tits, Geralt, I wrote them while on numbing potions. They were never supposed to see the light of day.” He runs a hand over his face and nearly crumples in Geralt’s arms out of sheer relief and mortification.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If it makes you feel any better, your writing has certainly improved over the years.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier, now resembling a tomato, glares at Geralt from between his fingers. He smells sweet and ripe and his eyes shine with something Geralt cannot find words for. He runs his fingers down Jaskier’s side just to feel him wriggle beneath his fingertips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How on earth did you manage to get your hands on them? I just about tore our inn apart when I realized they’d gone missing.  If I recall correctly, you were in Temeria with Ciri hunting that Royal Wyvern." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Essi sent them to me,” Geralt lies. It'd actually been Valdo but he doubts Jaskier would appreciate knowing his sworn enemy had delivered his bawdy poetry to humiliate him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course she did. Why am I not surprised? Everything she does is specifically done to torture me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sighing, his bard tucks a stray strand behind his ear and rests his palm against Geralt’s cheek. They’re warm and he finds himself leaning into his touch. His eyes flit up to meet Jaskier’s and he can see crinkles in the corners that his bard will forever deny is crow’s feet. His smile is devoid of any performance, lopsided with a fondness that makes Geralt feel as though he’s a cat bathing in the summer sun. It’s simultaneously too much and not enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I keep them in Kaer Morhen, read them when you’re not there to keep me company” Geralt admits. “This winter was longer than expected. Knew I wouldn’t be able to make it down before mid-spring. By the time it was safe to leave, it was almost time for Belleteyn.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you brought them with you because you missed me,” Jaskier finishes for him with a cheeky smile. “You sweet, sentimental, old fool.” He says it like it’s an indisputable fact and Geralt won’t deny him -- hasn’t for a very long time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier tilts forwards, looking at him with half-lidded eyes heavy with affection. Brown, chin-length wisps of hair brush by Geralt’s temples and he welcomes the first touch of spring when his bard kisses him soundly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My sweetest Witcher,” Jaskier whispers against his lips, “I missed you too.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The next winter, when Jaskier stays behind in Oxenfurt to educate more young nobles about bardic history and its influence on Northern Politics, Geralt cleans out his saddlebags and finds another stack of letters hidden between the old.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All of them are dated within the past year, the first only days after Jaskier had found them in his bags. The parchment is carefully wrapped in twine that matches his bard’s eyes. If Geralt holds the letters to his nose, the scent of spiced honey and wine settles over him like a second skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He opens the first letter and begins to read.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello!! I hope you enjoyed this small fic I whipped up at 3am! I've been lurking in the Witcher fandom since late April n even wrote a long fic (still a WIP) that's been kicking my ass since May. I'm still kinda new to Witcher and only watched the Netflix show, 4 episodes of Polish Hexer, n read the first 2 books so I apologize if the characterization's a bit off. I wrote Geralt as a mix betw/netflix and game!geralt that's learned how to accept love and vocalize it a bit after s1. There's also a very, itty bitty, tiny hint of bg yenralt</p><p> I've also been having major writer's block and decided to rewatch all of Schitt's Creek and got inspired by S05E02: Love Letters, so if some of the dialogue sounds familiar, that's definitely why! The title is from a poem by Yesika Salgado titled 'I love you' so pls check her out if you'd like!</p><p>PS. I have rlly bad anxiety so pls don't feel bad if I don't respond, just know I appreciate any and all feedback!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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